The Blake Adventures: Curtain Call
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Dr. and Mrs. Blake investigate the death of the Tynemans' butler, but Patrick and Susan Tyneman know much more than they're letting on.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blake Adventures: Curtain Call**

 _June 1960_

"Alright, everyone, that's all for today. And let's please try to be off-book by tomorrow," the director begged, dismissing the actors from rehearsal.

Jean sighed and went backstage to gather her things. She'd been trying to memorize her lines, but had been running into more trouble than expected. Miraculously, Robert Manifold had chosen a play for the Church Dramatic Society that called for a female-heavy cast. Susan Tyneman had been cast in the lead, as always, but Jean had managed to get the largest supporting role. She'd never had such a big part before, and adjusting to the sheer volume of her lines was still eluding her. Plus, it had been quite a while since she'd done a play with the Dramatic Society, so she was out of practice. Turning down Robert's proposal had been difficult at the time, what with her shame at saying no to a lovely man in order to remain the housekeeper of a man who barely noticed her. But Robert had since married a widow from Bendigo, and Jean Beazley had since become Jean Blake. She felt no reason to stay away from the theatre anymore, and she had missed it.

Lost in her thoughts, Jean accidentally bumped into Lisa Baxter, one of the younger ladies in the play. "Oh goodness, Lisa, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going," Jean apologized.

Lisa looked up at her with her golden-brown eyes wide with worry. "Oh, no, I'm sorry Jean." She immediately averted her eyes downward and mumbled more apologies as she rushed away. She looked as though she were about to cry.

Jean watched her hurry off and saw Robert standing nearby. "Is Lisa alright?" she asked.

"She's just disappointed, I think. I know she wanted a bigger part. It's been almost two weeks since we cast the play but it doesn't look like she's gotten over it," Robert replied.

"Poor girl. She's so very young. Barely twenty, isn't she?"

"Eighteen. She had to get her father's permission to join. She snuck into the audition, and honestly, she was incredible. But you know how these things are. Sponsors want to see their wives in the bigger parts."

"Yes, I know how the Tynemans do things," Jean grumbled.

"And the Blakes," Robert added knowingly.

Jean was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?!"

"Isn't that why you've come back? I just assumed that since you're the wife of a doctor now, you'd be getting top billing along with the rest of the well-to-do wives."

Jean was appalled. "Did Lucien say something to you?" She didn't want to believe that her husband had done something like this.

"Oh, Jean, I'm sorry, I thought you…I didn't mean to…" Robert stammered.

Without another word, Jean brushed past him and stormed out. Lucien was waiting by the car to drive her home from rehearsals.

"Hello, love!" he greeted warmly. "Rehearsals run long today? How was it?"

Jean got in the car, barely containing her anger. She waited until he'd started the engine before shouting, "How could you!"

Lucien was stunned. "How could I, what!?"

"You got me my part with a bribe!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" he asked confusedly.

Jean pressed on, "I just spoke with Robert who let it slip, I suppose, that the sponsors of the Dramatic Society get the perk of seeing their wives in the larger roles. I knew that's how Susan Tyneman got to be the lead in everything, but I never thought you'd stoop so low as to throw your money around like Patrick Tyneman!"

Lucien didn't quite like being yelled at while driving, so he pulled over on the side of the road so he and Jean could have it out properly. "Jean, I don't know what would make you think that I'd do something like that!"

"So you deny it?"

"Of course I do! Jean, I'm not even sponsoring the Church Dramatic Society! If I was, I would have told you. And even if I was, I wouldn't use that as leverage to get you a part in some play. Honestly, you think so little of your own ability? You got that part because you're wonderful. You'd be the lead in everything if it weren't for the Tynemans and their rotten tricks," he said bitterly.

Jean suddenly felt very embarrassed. She sat in the car quietly for a moment, thinking and starting at her fidgeting hands in her lap. "So you're not sponsoring the play?" she asked quietly.

"No, but I could if you'd like me to."

"Then why would Robert have said that to me?"

"I don't know. Perhaps since it's been a few years since you've been in the Dramatic Society, only returning after we got married, he might have assumed that the reason was so that I could get you a part in the play?" Lucien theorized.

"I suppose if that's the typical way about it, he might have just assumed he was supposed to give me this part." She huffed in frustration, "But that's just awful! I don't want to play a role I didn't earn!"

"You did earn it, Jean! You're a wonderful actress!" he insisted.

"I'm having a terrible time learning my lines, so I doubt I'll even be able to say the words, let alone act them."

"You'll learn your lines. I have no doubt. And regardless of how you got cast in that part, you're going to do a bang-up job!"

"Thank you, Lucien."

"Everything will turn out alright. Have confidence, darling."

Jean smiled at his kind words.

He reached over and tilted her chin up. "There now, that's the smile of a leading lady."

"I may have far too many lines, but I am still only a supporting player."

"Well, you'll always be _my_ leading lady." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "Let's go home and we can run your lines after dinner, eh?"

Lucien had sat at the kitchen table and read through Jean's script as she cooked, commenting on the story as he went. It warmed her heart to see him take such an interest. After she washed up after dinner, they retired to the living room, where they rehearsed Jean's lines for a little while. Lucien was very patient with all of her mix-ups, gently encouraging her to the right words.

As was often the case, they were interrupted by the telephone ringing. Jean stood up to answer it, but Lucien stopped her. "Here, I'll get it. You read through your part in the next act. I shan't be a moment," he said. He was only gone for about a minute. He returned with a somber expression. "That was Charlie. I'm needed at the Tyneman house."

"What?!" Jean asked with shock.

"Patrick and Susan are fine. Their butler was found dead in the kitchen.'

"Oh my god! Do you want me to come with you?"

Lucien paused, considering. "Actually, yes. Leave a note for Mattie when she gets back from her late shift so she doesn't worry."

Jean quickly scribbled something down for Mattie and got in the car with her husband. They rushed to the most elite part of town to the Tyneman mansion. There were a number of police cars there. Charlie was waiting to take the Blakes inside. He was mildly surprised to see Jean there, but he led them both in.

Chief Superintendent Carlyle was deep in conversation with Patrick Tyneman, who was carrying on with his typical blustering annoyance. Sergeant Hobart was very awkwardly trying to comfort Susan Tyneman. Susan noticed Jean walk in and cried out.

"Jean! Oh you dear, thank you for coming," Susan sobbed. She put her arms around Jean and continued to cry.

Jean looked to Lucien with wide eyes, confused at this display from Susan Tyneman, a woman with whom she'd never really gotten along. Lucien just shrugged in response and followed Charlie to the kitchen. Jean sighed and rolled her eyes. "There, there, Susan," she said, trying to be comforting.

Lucien found the body on the floor beside the refrigerator. His face and hands were red, as though he'd been very hot or sweaty just before he died.

Charlie explained, "His name is Lloyd Conroy. He's been the Tynemans' butler for almost ten years. They called him Conroy. He lives in the house, in the servants' quarters."

Lucien was curious about this body. No visible injury; the body was even still a little warm. "He died recently. In the last two hours, I'd guess. Who discovered him?"

"Patrick. He came to the kitchen for something to eat and found him like this. He immediately called the station when Conroy didn't wake and wasn't breathing."

"And when was he last seen alive?" Lucien asked.

"Earlier tonight. The Tynemans went out for dinner on a whim, and they didn't see Conroy when they returned home," Charlie replied.

"Alright, well I'll need to do an autopsy. It looks like asphyxiation, but there are no external marks to indicate strangulation or smothering. Let's transport the body to the morgue, and Dr. Harvey and I can do a further examination in the morning."

Lucien left the body for Charlie to deal with and went out into the foyer to see the others. Jean had gone to another room with Susan. Patrick was still speaking with the Chief Superintendent.

"Patrick, what do you think happened to your butler?" Lucien asked, interrupting whatever else was being said.

"I don't bloody know, do I? That's why I called the police!" Patrick answered angrily.

"Did Conroy have any health problems?"

Patrick averted his gaze. "He…ah…I don't know. He didn't speak about himself."

Lucien took that to mean that the Tynemans never bothered to ask about Conroy or care to hear about him at all. "Anyone who might have wanted him dead?"

Frank Carlyle interrupted before Patrick could answer. "You think this was murder, Blake?"

"Not sure yet. But if there's a motive for murder, that would be something good to know," Lucien reasoned.

For the first time, Patrick Tyneman looked properly concerned. His silence was quite telling.

"Patrick, I suggest you and Susan try to get some rest tonight. It might do to take a room at the Club for the time being," Frank suggested.

"And if either of you need anything to help you sleep over the next few days, don't hesitate to call," Lucien added. He then turned to Frank. "I'll do the autopsy with Dr. Harvey tomorrow. If that's all for now, I'll take Jean home."

On the drive back, Jean complained about Susan Tyneman the entire way. "I'd have sympathy for anyone who had someone die in their home, but you know what Susan kept going on about? How were they going to cope without Conroy? How would they get the position filled if the last butler had died on the job? Can you believe the nerve? To be so heartless. I couldn't have imagined it, not even from the Tynemans."

"I think Patrick had something to do with this," Lucien said, interrupting the tirade.

"You think Patrick killed the butler?" Jean asked in surprise.

"Not at the moment, no. Even if, for some reason, Patrick did have reason to want someone dead, he wouldn't do it himself. No, I think there's more to this than the Tynemans are letting on. Patrick knows something, or at least suspects it. I won't know what to look for until I do the autopsy tomorrow, but I'd bet my hat Patrick knows more than he's told us. Possibly Susan too."

Jean sighed, "I think I see where this is going."

Lucien couldn't resist a small smile. "Well you are in the play with her, dear."

"I cannot believe you're going to make me be friendly with Susan Tyneman," Jean whined.

"Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate your help?" he offered with a grin.

She growled slightly. "You're going to owe me much more than just stating your appreciation."

With a slight smirk and a sparkle in his eyes, Lucien posited, "Perhaps I can take you upstairs and give you a backrub. Well, start with a backrub."

Jean was glad for the darkness of the car driving through the Ballarat night, as she was sure she was blushing furiously. "Only if Mattie is already in bed and we can close the bedroom door and stay quiet when Charlie gets home."

"I promise I'll make it worth your while," Lucien assured her, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on top of her knee. Jean quickly covered his hand with hers to ensure that he didn't move it any higher and kept his focus on the road.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Lucien went straight to the morgue after breakfast to start on the autopsy. He arrived before Dr. Harvey for possibly the first time ever. He began to examine the body, now that it'd had time to rest overnight. Any bruising would begin to show, perhaps giving an idea as to the cause of death.

"Would you stop that?"

Lucien looked up to see Alice enter. "Good morning, Dr. Harvey. Sorry I didn't wait. I was eager to get started."

"Yes, I do know how you like a mysterious death," she replied knowingly. "Any theories so far?"

"He was bright red when I got there last night, which makes me think oxygen deprivation."

"Asphyxiation, perhaps?"

"I haven't noticed any external signs of strangling or smothering, but it is possible."

Alice nodded. "Let's get started, then."

Their examination of the body yielded no answers. There was no evidence of anything supporting murder. Lucien did have another theory, but it was a bit ridiculous of thing to happen in Ballarat to a butler, so he kept it to himself. He simply asked Alice to get a toxicology report and to call him with the results.

After the autopsy, Lucien went straight home. Jean had rearranged his appointments to come in to see him after his police business was finished. His first patient was already waiting for him, so he went straight into his surgery. Thankfully things with Mrs. Toohey went rather quicker than expected, prescribing a stronger antihistamine for her allergies, so Lucien had a little time before the next appointment.

"Jean, dear, have you been practicing your lines?" he asked, joining her in the kitchen. He was pleased to see the script open on the table.

"I haven't had much time yet this morning, but I am trying."

"Let's run through it a bit before Mr. Abernathy gets here," he suggested.

She put down her feather duster and took the welcome distraction from the housework.

They spent the next half hour going through all of Jean's scenes. She very nearly had it, but she still felt quite unsure of herself. It would take more work to allow her to be confident with the dialogue.

The doorbell rang and Lucien stood to greet Mr. Abernathy. "You're doing beautifully, Jean," he told her. "We'll go through it one last time after this appointment, and you should be all ready for rehearsal this afternoon!"

Jean did appreciate his help. She felt even more pressure to get her lines learned now, since she knew she'd be using rehearsal time to try to get information from Susan Tyneman.

By the time Lucien drove her to the theater, the scenes were running through her mind on a constant loop. They discussed Lucien's theory on the drive over.

"I don't know what to look for yet, since we still don't have a definitive cause of death. But at the moment, it looks to me like poisoning."

"Poisoning?" Jean asked in surprise.

"I'm waiting for the toxicology results from Alice, but since we've ruled out natural causes and most other things I'd have guessed, my money is on cyanide," he told her.

Jean's brow furrowed. "Cyanide? But why would…" She trailed off. The only thing she knew about cyanide was the stories of spies using the poison when they got captured.

"It could be from a number of different things, but we won't know for sure until later." Lucien parked the car outside the theater. "Now, Susan will likely still be rather shaken after last night. Assuming she comes to rehearsal at all. But anything you can learn from her could be a help."

"Of course. I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you, Jean. And break a leg, as they say," he said cheerfully.

She shook her head in feigned exasperation. "It's only a rehearsal, Lucien."

"Well, you know all your lines now, anyway."

"I hope so."

"You'll be brilliant," he told her confidently. He kissed her cheek. "I'll be back later to drive you home."

Jean went into the theater, wondering first if Susan Tyneman would even be there, and if she was, wondering how she could get Susan to open up to her. But her concerns were unfounded. Susan was already there, sitting quietly backstage, but as soon as she saw Jean, she jumped up to greet her.

"Oh Jean, I'm so glad you're here," Susan said.

"Of course, Susan. We have rehearsal three days a week," Jean replied cautiously. "I'm glad to see you here as well. I wasn't sure you'd be out and about after last night."

Susan sighed sadly. "Well, the show must go on."

Jean gave a strained smile. "Of course. How are you doing? How's Patrick?"

"Oh you know Patrick. He's not really himself unless he's angry about something," Susan lamented.

This was the opening Jean had been looking for. "Is Patrick angry about something? I wouldn't think anger would be the most obvious response to a thing like this."

"No, he's annoyed with the police, wishing we would get answers faster so we can go home. The whole affair is quite an interference, you know."

"I can imagine," Jean replied, doing her best to not be repulsed by the Tynemans' callousness.

She was saved by Robert, calling them all to rehearsal. They'd be working on one of Jean's scenes today, so it was lucky she'd done so much practicing with Lucien.

Meanwhile, Lucien had gone to the police station to speak with Frank Carlyle. "Ah, Frank, any more information from the Tynemans?"

"They were pretty shaken. But they're staying at the Colonist's Club for the time being. Their kitchen may be a crime scene. You have a cause of death for me yet?"

"We ruled out a lot of things, but nothing definitive at the moment. I'm waiting for the toxicology report," Lucien replied.

The phone rang, and Bill Hobart answered it. He hung up quickly. "Sir, there's been an accident at Tyneman Electronics."

Lucien followed Frank and Bill as they rushed out. They arrived at the electronics shop to find Patrick standing outside, yelling at everyone crowded around. Frank went to go calm him down.

"What's happened, Patrick?"

"THE BLOODY CEILING COLLAPSED!" Patrick bellowed.

Lucien went right into the store. The showroom seemed untouched. A bit dusty, but nothing else. He made his way to the back and found what should have been Patrick Tyenman's office covered in rubble. A large portion of the ceiling had come crashing down beside the desk. Drywall dust, asbestos insulation, electrical wiring, and wood foundation beams littered the floor.

Frank came to join Lucien. "Good god!" he exclaimed.

Lucien nodded. "I think someone's trying to kill Patrick Tyneman."

"I think you're right," the Chief Superintendent agreed. "He's not going to like it, but I'll have to bring him into the station for questioning."

"No, he won't like that at all."

Back at the station, Patrick sat in the interview room with arms folded obstinately. "This is bloody ridiculous," he grumbled.

"Patrick, you might be in real danger. Last night, your butler dies. Today, the ceiling in your office comes down right next to your desk. It's a miracle you weren't hurt!" Frank chided.

"Well, we don't know he wasn't hurt. He hasn't let me examine him," Lucien interjected.

"I'm fine!" Patrick insisted. "Nothing hit me. I coughed on some dust, and that's all. And as I already told you, I went downstairs last night and found Conroy dead on the floor. I haven't done anything!" he maintained.

"Well I wouldn't go that far," Lucien scoffed. "Patrick, you have a certain position in this town, and the way you do business can rub people the wrong way. Now, can you think of anything else that's happened recently that might have been an attempt to harm you? Or anyone who might have a motive to do so?"

Patrick frowned. He thought for a moment. "About a week ago, I was visiting the footwear factory and some of the chemical dye splashed out of one of the machines as I went by. One of the workers got some burns on his arms, but he's fine. That was just a machinery malfunction though. And a few days ago, at the golf club, my usual chair in the clubhouse practically disintegrated. Serves that bloke right. Taking my chair after the staff warned him? He deserves to fall flat on his ass."

Frank's eyes were wide. "Patrick, this is very serious! Dr. Blake is right, someone is trying to kill you!"

But Patrick wouldn't be persuaded. He stood up from the table. "When someone starts shooting at me, I'll be concerned. Until then, a series of foolish coincidences aren't going to scare me!" He walked toward the door, but Lucien blocked him.

"A man _died_ , Patrick! Someone who lived in your house!"

"When you can show me he didn't just have a heart attack, then maybe I'll worry," Patrick sneered. He nudged Lucien aside and left the police station.

Frank joined Lucien by the door and they watched Patrick Tyneman storm out. "I think I'll have Ned tail him for the time being."

"Good luck with that. But it's probably for the best."

"And we need that cause of death, Doc," Frank reminded.

"It takes a little time. But Alice should have the results later this afternoon." Lucien checked his watch. It wasn't quite time for him to pick up Jean from rehearsals, so he went home to catch up on some paperwork.

Mattie had the day off, so she was in the sitting room when Lucien arrived. "You've been gone a while," she noted.

"Yes, well, it seems someone may be making attempts on Patrick Tyneman's life."

"Oh my goodness! I know he's not anyone's favorite person, but that's terrifying!" Mattie exclaimed.

"And Patrick refuses to believe it. He's being thoroughly uncooperative. And without his help, the list of suspects is seemingly endless."

"Well sure, he's got business interests everywhere."

Lucien nodded. "He has the footwear factory, the electronics store, the Courier, though that mostly belongs to Edward now. And beyond that, Patrick is on the boards for the hospital, the golf club, the Colonist's Club…"

"And he sponsors the Church Dramatic Society and the horse races, and he's active in the Council," Mattie added. She sighed, "Yes, I see what you mean, the possibilities are endless."

The telephone rang and Lucien went to answer it. It was Alice, confirming his theory that Conroy had been killed with an extremely high dosage of cyanide, which had prevented his body from processing oxygen, giving his skin that red hue just before death. His entire body had suffocated.

Lucien hung up the phone. "Mattie, are you busy?"

She put down the magazine she'd been perusing. "Not particularly, why?"

"Could you help me with a little research?"

Mattie nodded. "Of course. What do you need?"

"I need to know all the ways a person could get ahold of cyanide."

Before Lucien could explain any further, the phone rang again. "This is Doctor Blake."

Jean's voice sounded on the line. "Lucien, I don't want you to panic. I am fine. No one is hurt."

"What happened?"

"During rehearsal, one of the lights fell and crashed on the stage right in front of where Susan and I were standing. She fainted from shock, which I can't really blame her for, but other than some fright, everyone is just fine," she assured him.

"I'm coming right away." He hung up and raced out the door. Despite Jean's words, he couldn't help himself from panicking.

He arrived at the theater in half the time it would have normally taken. He'd driven as fast as the car would allow. After parking in a rather haphazard fashion, Lucien ran inside the theater, shouting for his wife.

She appeared in the hallway, looking rather cross. "Lucien! Quit shouting!"

He ran to her and took her in his arms. "Are you alright? Jean, are you sure you're alright?"

At first, she was tense in his embrace, but she quickly relaxed into him. "Yes, I'm fine!" she insisted. "Having a giant light fixture fall two feet away gave me a bit of a start, but I'm fine! Not one shard of glass even touched me."

Lucien couldn't help himself. He held her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks and her forehead and her hair and her nose and her lips.

And while Jean did enjoy his affectionate nature, she knew they were in public. "Lucien, please," she hissed, breaking away from him.

All he could do was stare at her, scrutinizing every inch of her, just to be sure that not one bit of her had been hurt in any way. Even after he was satisfied she was alright, it took a few moments for his heart to stop racing. She reached out to hold his hand, which he brought up to his lips for a soft kiss. His eyes were locked with hers, and she gave him an appreciative smile.

"You should have a look at Susan Tyneman. I think she's alright, but she did faint, so it might be good for you to see to her, since you're here," Jean suggested.

Lucien nodded and followed her through the halls to the backstage area, holding her hand the whole time.

"Susan, Dr. Blake is here. He wants to make sure you're alright," Jean said gently. It was only then that she let go of her husband's hand.

"Oh Jean, it was so kind of you to call the doctor for me," Susan said breathily from where she lay on the sofa.

Jean couldn't help but think that seeing to Susan had been rather far down on the list of reasons she'd called Lucien, but it led to the same outcome. She stood aside as Lucien took Susan's pulse and checked her for any injury. He gave her a clean bill of health, but prescribed plenty of rest after such a shock to her system.

He stood and moved away from the small crowd surrounding Susan. "Jean, might I have a word?" He gestured to the hallway outside. Jean followed him away from prying eyes and ears. "The reason I was so worried is because I think someone is after the Tyenmans. I thought it was just Patrick, but after this, it looks like Susan is a target as well. God forbid anything happen to them, but the last thing I want is for you to get caught up in this mess."

A noise further down the hall prevented Jean from answering. Both Blakes turned to see Lisa Baxter put her hands over her mouth to keep from audibly sobbing as she cried. Jean's maternal instincts kicked in, and she rushed to young Lisa's side. "Shh, it's alright, Lisa," she said soothingly.

Lucien was concerned as well. "Lisa, are you hurt?" he asked. His father had been physician to the entire Baxter family, and they were among the patients Lucien had inherited.

Lisa shook her head and just cried in Jean's arms.

When he was convinced that Lisa was just afraid and upset, Lucien knew he wasn't needed. He left Jean and Lisa to find Robert, the show's director. He and a few of the stage hands were huddled on the stage, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Robert, is there a reason my wife was nearly killed onstage today?" Lucien asked pointedly. Rationally, he knew it likely wasn't Robert's fault. But the idea that anything could have happened to Jean had frightened him, and that fear was quickly converted to anger.

"I can't understand it, Dr. Blake. Sid checked the lights just this morning and they were all in working order. And other than the main lights, we don't use anything fancy for rehearsals," Robert answered, ignoring Lucien's veiled accusations.

Sid chimed in, "I checked those fastenings just a few hours ago. Everything was as it should be. Unless someone went up to the rafters and loosened them, there's no way that light could have fallen."

Lucien frowned. "Robert, I'm going to need the name of every single person who's been in the theater today."

It was some time before the Blakes were able to go home. Jean was very quiet in the car. The idea that someone was trying to kill Patrick and Susan Tyneman frightened her more than she had expected. Perhaps it was because the Tynemans had always been such a Ballarat institution; the family had owned half the town for Jean's whole life. They were invincible. They had their enemies, as anyone in their position, and as pompous and obnoxious as they were, Jean did not wish any harm to them. And, suddenly finding herself so close to Susan worried Jean just as it did Lucien.

Lucien's mind was preoccupied with the implications of the day. He was comforted only by the way Jean rested her head on his shoulder as he drove.


	3. Chapter 3

When they arrived home, they found an unfamiliar car parked out front. Upon coming inside, they found Mattie at the kitchen table with none other than Patrick Tyneman.

"Patrick," Lucien greeted with surprise. "What are you doing here? I mean, shouldn't you be with Susan?"

"Edward is with her," Patrick replied dismissively. Obviously, he'd been informed of what had happened at the theater. "I wanted to speak with you."

"Would you like to come into my study?"

Patrick didn't stand up. "Blake, it's no secret that you solve more crimes than the entire police force combined. And you do it in the most annoying way, which is why they should have fired you about fifty times over."

"Thank you," Lucien quipped.

"That's why I'm talking to you here and not at the police station. And I know Mrs. Blake and Miss O'Brien help you. Since I know you'll tell them anyway, I won't bother to hide anything."

Lucien and Jean both sat down at the table, curious as to what Patrick would say.

He continued, "I didn't want to believe I was in danger when we spoke earlier. But whoever this bastard is, he's gone after my wife. Susan's done nothing wrong. Hell, Susan doesn't do _anything_ , wrong or right. She shouldn't be a part of this."

"Of course," Lucien replied sympathetically.

"It's Charlie Griffith," Patrick said bluntly. "I'm sure of it. He's the only one who's any competition for me. A bidding war, fine. But this is too far. You know he'll go to any lengths to win, and I've beat him at every turn. Now he's trying to get me out of the way."

Lucien considered this theory. It did make sense. What Patrick Tyneman had in business interests, Charlie Griffith had in property holdings. The two families had created parallel empires in Ballarat since the beginning of time. "Patrick, is there anything that's happened recently to provoke this kind of lethal animosity?"

Patrick just shrugged. "Must be a breaking point. But it's gotta be him. I can't imagine anyone else who'd stoop to that level."

"I'll look into it," Lucien replied.

Jean piped up, "Patrick would you like to stay for dinner?"

"No, thank you, Jean. I should see to Susan." And with that, Patrick thanked Lucien, Jean, and Mattie for their help, and left.

During dinner, they all discussed the case. Lucien and Jean weren't convinced about Griffith. But Mattie had found that only a few readily-available chemicals contained high levels of cyanide, and all would be easy to acquire by a man like Charlie Griffith.

"The most common sources of cyanide poisoning, outside of intentional ingestion, are as a byproduct from industrial fire, which obviously didn't happen to Lloyd Conroy, or from the color tone chemicals used in developing photographs," Mattie explained. "And doesn't Charlie Griffith own the buildings on High Street where the Holbrooks have their photography studio?"

Lucien smiled proudly. "Well done, Mattie. I'll look into it first thing tomorrow."

Midway through dinner, Charlie came home after a long day at the police station. He told them all that Dr. Harvey delivered the autopsy report, indicating cyanide poisoning had killed Lloyd Conroy. Charlie had gone back to the Tyenman house and tested all the food in the fridge. It turned out that the roast made for their dinner, which Patrick and Susan had foregone to go out to eat, had been laced with cyanide. Conroy had eaten some of it, rather than allowing it to go to waste, and he'd died very quickly. After that discovery, Charlie had re-interviewed all of the Tynemans' staff. None of them seemed to know what had happened, but none of them had raised any suspicion. Sergeant Hobart had taken over investigating the ceiling collapse at Tyneman Electronics. Apparently there had been repairs to the ventilation system about a week earlier, and the ceiling support beams had been tampered with, making them weak enough to break at any given moment.

All through Charlie's update on the investigation, something gnawed at Jean's mind. But she couldn't quite place what was bothering her. She fixated on it all through dinner and washing up and their customary nightcap in the sitting room before bed.

Lucien finally brought up her quiet preoccupation when they'd gone up to their bedroom. "Penny for your thoughts, love."

She sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I feel like I know what's going on. There's one piece missing and it's as though the answer is on the tip of my tongue!" she told him in frustration.

He chuckled in understanding. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with the feeling."

"It's like I'm trying to remember something, but I can't even remember what I'm trying to remember!"

"I always find that talking it through is quite helpful."

"Yes, I know, that's usually what I'm here for," she said snidely.

He ignored that slight rudeness. "Take it step by step."

Jean closed her eyes, reciting the facts the same way she'd been reciting her lines for the play. "The Tynemans' butler was killed on accident from cyanide poisoning meant for the Tyenmans. It was in their roast. The staff didn't poison it, so it must have come that way. Someone at the butcher had access to it. The chemical contained cyanide, possibly from photography chemicals. The ceiling collapsed at Tyneman Electronics. Someone working on the repair to the ventilation system tampered with the beams. And today, a light fell from the rafters onto the stage, presumably meant to hit Susan Tyneman."

"So where does that lead us?" Lucien asked, guiding her thought process. He certainly hadn't worked anything out yet, but Jean clearly felt like she had the missing piece. She probably did.

Jean's mind scrolled through the people she knew who could possibly been involved in all those things. "The butcher, photography, construction, the theater. Someone has access to all of them." Her eyes snapped open. "Lisa Baxter!" she exclaimed.

"Lisa Baxter?" Lucien repeated in disbelief. "What's little Lisa Baxter got to do with this?"

"No, not Lisa herself." As Jean began to put the pieces together, her eyes went wide with fear. "We've got to call Frank Carlyle right away. We have to get to the Club!"

Jean thankfully hadn't yet changed into her pyjamas. She raced downstairs, shouting for Charlie. "Get your uniform meet us at the Colonist's Club with Frank!" she ordered. She reached for the keys to the car and threw them at her husband behind her. "Lucien, quickly!"

He started the engine as instructed. "Jean, what on earth is going on?"

She explained what she'd worked out, and when he understood its implications, he drove faster.

They arrived at the Club just in time. A young man dressed in uniform was about to break into the Tynemans' room. He was carrying a gun. Lucien, with his extensive military training, was able to disarm him quickly. Jean took the gun as Lucien slammed the boy against the wall, keeping him pinned despite his cries for help.

The Tynemans came from their room, each wearing a dressing gown. "What the devil is going on!?" Patrick shouted.

"You wanted someone to start shooting at you, Patrick, and he nearly did!" Lucien replied, still holding onto the struggling lad and gesturing over to Jean, who was unloading the gun with shaking hands.

Frank and Charlie ran up the stairs a moment later. They arrested the young man and took him to the station. Lucien and Jean would follow shortly.

"You can go home now," Jean told the Tynemans. "I have no doubt Lucien will get a confession tonight," she explained with a prideful tone.

"And you can thank Jean for figuring it all out," Lucien added, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Jean? What on earth is all of this?" Susan asked in desperate confusion.

"I'll explain it all to you at rehearsal tomorrow," Jean told her. "But this gun is evidence, so we should get it to the station."

With that, the Blakes left. The Tynemans remained in the hallway, both thoroughly baffled at the situation.

Lucien entered the interview room at the police station, armed with all the information Jean had given him. She was the better person to do the interrogation, but as a civilian and a woman, she wasn't allowed in a police interview.

"Good evening, Jimmy Dennis," Lucien greeted as he sat down. "I'm sure Chief Superintendent Carlyle has told you that you don't need to answer my questions, but I'm hoping you will. You see, my wife was rather clever in figuring out what you've been doing, and I'd like to prove her right."

Jimmy sat sullenly, his arms in front of him on the table, shackled in handcuffs.

Lucien continued, "You're a rather industrious lad, aren't you, Jimmy? You do all sorts of odd jobs around town. Sometimes you assist the Holbrooks at the photography studio. You work construction, doing repairs here and there at factories and in shops and at the golf club. You've even been known to do deliveries for the butcher and the grocer, and you fill in as a waiter at the Colonist's Club. Isn't that right?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Right. I thought so. See, that means you had access to all the things used to threaten the Tyemans. You know, Patrick was convinced the attempts on his life were a business rivalry. But that's not true, is it? You're not after anything as petty as money. No, you're a man in love," Lucien said knowingly.

"Lisa's better than any of those women up there," Jimmy mumbled quietly.

Lucien had to smile. Jean had been spot on. "You just wanted to help Lisa."

"She wants to be an actress. And she's brilliant at it. The director even said so! But then he wouldn't give her a good part because Susan Tyneman always plays the lead. Because the Tynemans sponsor the plays," Jimmy explained bitterly.

"And the Tynemans have enough, is that it?" Frank inquired, jumping into the questioning, now that he could see where it was going.

"If the Tynemans weren't around, they wouldn't be pushing everyone else aside to get their way! People deserve to make their way without Patrick bloody Tyneman dictating who can do what!" Jimmy's rage had exploded now. His face was turning red and he slammed his fists on the table.

"Jimmy Dennis, did you make multiple attempts on the lives of Patrick and Susan Tyneman?" Frank asked, shouting over Jimmy's angry yelling.

"Yes, I did! And I would have gotten them this time!"

That was enough for Frank. "Davis, lock him up!"

Charlie took Jimmy to the cell, leaving Lucien and Frank in the interview room.

"Did your wife really figure all that out?" Frank asked.

"Yes. She'd seen Jimmy hanging around the theater with Lisa, who was ever so upset over not getting a better part in the play. And Jimmy's delivered our meat from the butcher at times. He's one of the lads known for doing odd jobs around town. Jean was able to put it all together," Lucien told him.

"That's some wife you've got there, Doc."

"Mmm," Lucien agreed.

The two men went to the outer office of the police station to find Jean waiting. "Did you get a confession?" she asked anxiously.

"We did. And all thanks to you, I'm told," Frank said.

"It was a rather close call," Jean replied humbly.

Frank extended his hand to her. "Thank you, Mrs. Blake. Glad to have you on the team."

Jean was rather stunned. She shook the Chief Superintendent's hand and smiled, not knowing what else to say.

"But don't think I'm going to start paying you more now that I've got both of you working," Frank warned Lucien.

Lucien laughed. "Nah, wouldn't dream of it." He took Jean by the hand and led her out of the police station. In the cool night air, he pulled her into his arms in the shadows of the evening.

"People will see!" Jean warned.

"They won't. And even if they do, I don't care. You saved the day, Jean, and I'm very proud of you."

"You helped me put the pieces together. And you helped me learn my lines. So I should thank you," she teased.

He chuckled. "You're brilliant, and I love you very much."

Jean didn't reply. She merely tilted her head up just enough to catch his lips, allowing him to kiss her far longer than was prudent. But she'd earned a bit of fun. As Lucien had said, she'd saved the day.


End file.
